


if it feels right

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: ;), Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “The kid’s good,” Brandon hears himself say, and Charlie turns to look him over, laughing.





	if it feels right

Once upon a time there was a boy with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. A boy with a heart of gold and sweet hands he carries on and off the ice. A boy that bled white, blue, and red all while skating like it’s all he knows. A boy that Brandon barely _knows_ , but he can’t get enough of.

It’s all because of that first time they lock eyes on the ice, when Jesperi’s smile comes easy, welcoming, like they’re not supposed to hate each other — like they don’t play for teams steaming with disdain for one another. And that might’ve been the only time Brandon found himself smiling back, involuntarily maybe, the curl at the corner of his lips when he meets excited eyes and a fresh face. Those side effects that come right along with being a rookie, still not desensitized to playing in the big leagues, still blown away by the prospect of being _here_. Still wearing that tiny little smile, it’s small and private, and part of Brandon feels like he shouldn’t be looking.

When the puck drops, everything blends back together again, the ice, the fans, the scoreboard, and Brandon steels himself. That’s as far as that goes.

 

When he’s thinking it over, the idea of actually feeling something other than frustration towards a Hab is foreign, but it’s hard not to do anything with whatever interest Jesperi’s piqued in him. And Brandon will find himself watching highlights from Habs games just to catch sight of that ecstatic smile Jesperi will flash every time they make a good play, or they score one, or _he_ scores one. 

Brandon isn’t even sure what it means that he doesn’t feel the same envy he would feel towards anyone else facing that kind of success, that underneath everything else, he _wants_ Jesperi to do good. Like he isn’t competition. It’s similar to what Brandon feels each time one of his boys does well, but those are teammates. Jesperi doesn’t even play for an American team and if anything, Brandon’s loyal to the good old US of A.

He goes for guys that barely know hockey, American boys with all the passion in the world for football or baseball, boys that don’t know who Brandon Carlo is. That’s just how it’s always been, and he’s been able to press everything else down for _years_. Feelings for teammates or other players, they’ve never been much of a problem for him.

Not until now. Not really.

Brandon gets to see the way Jesperi’s face lights up in person too, when they’re on ice together and the Habs scrape together a goal. It doesn’t happen as often as it would with any other team, seeing how the Bruins have came out on top, twice now, actually, but he doesn’t feel bad. 

It takes so much to dampen Jesperi’s spirits, to make him feel anything close to disappointment, and Brandon admires that more than anything. 

He steals a few looks at Jesperi when they play, even when he doesn’t have the puck, and Brandon _knows_ he needs to focus on the game, but when he’s on the bench with nothing to do it’s all he can occupy himself with. Bright eyes, a brighter smile, a heart of gold, and sweet hands. 

“The kid’s good,” Brandon hears himself say, and Charlie turns to look him over, laughing.

“Can’t call a guy four years younger than you a kid,” he tells him, his voice light. 

“I can call _you_ kid, don’t tell me what to do.” Brandon keeps his eyes glued to the ice, watching Jesperi hop over the divider to his own bench. _His_ bench, because he’s not a Bruin. Because Brandon’s supposed to feel contempt towards him, it’s what he’s been brought up to do since he was drafted. Since he pulled that black and gold jersey over his head. And it’s always been so easy. 

Charlie ignores his comment, nudges his shoulder and says, “someone’s gonna think you’re looking for a scrap, keep ogling their bench.”’

“I’m just sizing up the competition,” Brandon says in what he hopes is an even voice. 

“Yeah? I’m gonna choose to believe that,” Charlie says, and perks up when someone calls ‘line change’.

 

Brandon isn’t supposed to feel this compelled to chat up the enemy, he isn’t supposed to be hanging around somewhere in the Bell Centre, waiting it out near the Habs locker room. 

He isn’t supposed to be trying to hide away from his teammates just to talk to this kid. He isn’t supposed to be this interested in someone he shouldn’t even be trying to get in contact with. And he definitely shouldn’t talk to him. 

But, Brandon’s never been one to have a very strong willpower. It’s a weakness, maybe a blessing. 

Because, “Oh,” he hears, and when he looks towards the voice, he catches sight of Jesperi just up the hall. 

Brandon offers him a weak wave, standing up straight from where he was leaning up against the wall, and by the time Jesperi’s within arm’s length of him he manages to muster out, “Hey.” It’s not very eloquent, but there’s something to it at least.

“Did you get lost?” Jesperi asks, his voice laden with concern in a way that strikes Brandon as impossible not to find endearing. “I mean, I still get confused sometimes, too,” he adds with a smile.

“No, it’s —“ He isn’t sure what to say, unable to form much else right off the bat. He can go for honesty, but. “Not lost, just took a wrong turn, maybe.”

Jesperi raises his eyebrows. “The word you’re looking for is lost,” he says. “English isn’t my first language and even _I_ know that.” 

“Lost is a strong word,” Brandon says. “That’s all.”

Jesperi laughs and it rolls off his tongue nothing but sugar sweet, coupled with a smile Brandon’s absolutely weak for. “Okay, I can help you find your way? Even if you already owe me for letting you win tonight.”

“Really? That’s how it’s gonna be?” Brandon follows after him as Jesperi starts walking. 

Jesperi’s wearing amusement clear across his face. It suits him. “It’s only fair. Now you owe me double,” he insists.

Brandon scoffs. “How am I supposed to make that up?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He smiles.

 

They chat on their way out, and Brandon doesn’t bump into anyone, which might just be the luckiest he’s ever gotten. It could be because they’re already a little later than most of the guys on getting out, but hey. He’s not going to complain.

He’d already told the guys he wouldn’t be leaving with them, so that means calling an uber, and as they’re stepping out and Brandon unpockets his phone, he gets a confused look from Jesperi.

“Calling — your bus?” He asks.

“Nah, gotta get an uber,” he says, and then, “I definitely missed the bus. S’not a problem, can’t really do much about it.”

Jesperi hums like he agrees, but he doesn’t leave, still by Brandon. “I mean,” he starts, hesitance clear in his voice, “I can drive you? It’s not a problem.”

Brandon nearly slips his phone back into his pocket right then and there, but he manages to hold on at the last second, just to protest a little bit. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a hassle.”

“Yeah, of course, it’s fine,” he says,. “Just get me the address.” 

Brandon does, wearing a smile and an anxious curl in his stomach.

 

Brandon learns one thing while they’re driving back: Jesperi’s quick to become comfortable around people.

He’s easy, really easy, and so fucking sweet for it. He’ll chatter away while Brandon offers a listening ear and a few comments along the road, even if it’s nicer just to listen to Jesperi get excited about Montreal, and his teammates, and the dog he saw outside the supermarket last week. 

Brandon feels his heart swell every time Jesperi offers him a smile, glancing his way while his hands sit on the steering wheel at ten and two. His expression goes softer as they get closer to the hotel, and —

 _where u at_ , he texts Charlie.

 _jake’s room, what’s good w u_ , Charlie texts back, which is fucking fantastic because they’re road roommates. And Brandon would prefer an empty room, if he’s going to try and make something work. 

Brandon texts, _good. keep it that way_ , and immediately gets the response _did u pick up in MONTREAL_

Brandon glances over at Jesperi, and Jesperi must feel him looking because he catches Brandon’s gaze with a smile in his eyes. 

_none ur business_ , he sends.

 

Brandon lets out a small breath as they pull up to the hotel, and Jesperi shrugs a little when Brandon looks over at him. “Your stop,” he says.

And — fuck it. This is their last game of the season, the last time they’re gonna see each other, and Brandon’s going to try this out at least. 

He isn’t usually the worst at reading signs, but Jesperi’s been sweet off the bat, he doesn’t know if it’s be stupid to just _assume_ , because there’s the greatest chance of just taking it the wrong way. There’s really only one way to find out.

So, “Hey, actually, do you wanna come in? Charlie’s not in our room, we’d have it to ourselves,” he says, and then tries to quickly throw in, “to, uh, hang out.”

Jesperi looks at him, a little considering, but he doesn’t argue against it. Instead, “Yeah. That’d be nice — sure.” 

He pulls into a parking spot, the car rolling smoothly over the asphalt, and Brandon can feel his chest tighten when the locks click open.

“Your teammates aren’t gonna try to rip my head off, right? Not fun, probably,” he says, and Brandon shrugs.

“Only if you piss them off,” he jokes, pushing open the passenger side door. 

“I don’t _piss people off_ ,” Jesperi tells him, fondly rolling his eyes. “I mean. I could.”

“Don’t,” Brandon tells him lightly, and when they start walking side by side towards the door, Jesperi bumps their shoulders.

Brandon looks over at him when he says, “rude that you’d think I’d even try.”

“Can’t be too careful,” he says, and Jesperi laughs. It’s soft, easy on the ears, and _god_ , this kid is going to drive him insane.

 

It’s in his hotel room that Brandon can finally let himself loosen up a little, excusing himself to change into sweats, and it’s fine and great, and he offers to let Jesperi borrow a pair. Because comfort’s a priority if he’s going to stay over for longer than ten minutes. “Suits are dumb,” Brandon says, by means of explanation, and Jesperi willingly takes the extra pair of sweats Brandon him.

They’re big on him, but Jesperi just rolls up the bottoms like a pair of jeans, and he doesn’t even make a face at the Bruins logo along the side. He practically ignores it. Even if Brandon can’t find it in himself to follow suit. He physically _can’t_ ignore Jesperi in one of his shirts and his pair of sweats, cuddled up against the headboard while they watch TV.

It’s probably worth mentioning that he nearly chokes on the air when Jesperi leans his head against his shoulder, and, _fuck_ , he looks sleepy. Sleepy in a way Brandon wasn’t prepared for, half-lidded eyes and a smile much softer than his other ones. It’s smaller.

It’s practically identical to the first smile he’d given Brandon.

“Tired?” He asks, and Jesperi lets out a hum. 

“No,” he says, even if it’s clear on his face. Jesperi blinks his eyes a little wider open, and Brandon laughs. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m sure,” he says, and he looks up at him through his lashes. _Up_ because Brandon’s a piece of shit fucking tree and he just had to have those extra inches on Jesperi, had to let him make a home on his shoulder, and it’s so hard not to kiss him. 

He’s trying not to look at his lips, but the up-and-down flick of his eyes is anything but subtle.

Jesper’s mouth opens just little, lips parted and welcoming, and Brandon can feel his heart squeeze, the blood pumping hard enough for him to hear it in his ears. Over and over and over and —

“Can I,” he breathes out, and reaches up to cup the side of his face with his hand. The bottom of his palm almost lines up with his jaw, but it’s just enough that he can brush over Jesperi’s bottom lip with his thumb. He keeps it gentle. He wants to be gentle. 

“But.” Jesperi leans a little into his hand, and Brandon hopes he isn’t imagining it. It feels too real to have been his imagination. “Is it okay? Can we —“

“Of course,” Brandon says.

Jesperi bites his lip, looking at Brandon with wide eyes like he can’t believe it. “Yeah,” he says, “Yeah.” 

When they kiss, it’s like Brandon lets the rest of the room fall apart. It’s hard to remember that there’s much else there, let alone the white noise of the TV, the sheets rumpling underneath them as Jesperi shifts to get closer, and then how Brandon lets himself get lead down against the bed.

His back hits the sheets softly enough that he isn’t sure he’d realize it if it wasn’t how Jesperi throws a leg over his lap, straddling him in a way that probably gets Brandon’s dick interested much quicker than it should. 

Jesperi pulls away moments later with a small sigh, his breaths fanning out over Brandon’s lips, and Brandon’s got his hands curled into the sheets. He’s watching him carefully, gauging the way Jesperi glances down. “You can touch,” he tells him, his voice small. One of his hands go to Brandon’s chest. “Please, I want you to.” 

His accent’s just a little thicker now, not as sweet and rolling off his tongue a little raspy. Brandon wonders, quietly, if there’s a way to get it anymore hoarse. He pushes that thought to the back of his head just to press his hand to the nape of his neck. 

He’s gentle when he pulls him back in, and Jesperi might be on top, but Brandon knows how to tilt his head just right — how to slot them perfectly together, and it’s so much easier to lead like that, still underneath him. 

He can feel Jesperi give, his hand _curling_ into the fabric of his shirt just as Brandon drops his fingers to his hips. His grip isn’t tight enough to leave marks, because Brandon knows the protocol. It’s always been one-sided, but they’re both heading into locker rooms next game, so marks are definitely off limits. 

Jesperi still pushes up against his hands, letting a helpless noise fall from his to Brandon’s lips. 

That’s really when Brandon feels him hard against his leg, and it’s like a burst of relief. Knowing he’s doing this right. 

Jesperi clutches to him like he’s the last of his sustenance, rolling his hips until it’s all Brandon can process. He could let Jesperi get off like that, even if he can’t. Because Brandon’s not a teenager anymore, he’s got enough control to keep everything in. But then there’s a leg slotted right between his thighs and every time Jesperi circles his hips down, rough and precise, Brandon feels little sparks of pleasure bubbling up in his stomach.

Jesperi pulls away from his lips with a little gasp, and presses his forehead against the sheets. It’s still so close, enough that Brandon can hear his sharp little intakes of breath right by him, turning his head to nip at his ear. 

Brandon lets his hands travel up Jesperi’s back, slipping under his shirt. He sets his nails into the skin on his back.

“Oh, god,” Jesperi gasps, shivering against him.

Brandon loves the pretty noises he makes when he grinds his hips against his, and it’s _still_ almost enough friction for him, right on the edge, but Jesperi seems content enough. Enough that when he straightens his back out, Brandon gets a picture perfect view of just how flushed his face is. And he _wants_ , so fucking bad.

He still isn’t sure where to put his hands, unsure of just where to keep them settled. So he drops them back to Jesperi’s hips, and offers a kiss to the side of his jaw.

It’s not a surprise, that it doesn’t take much longer for Jesperi to get off on just this, pressing up against _Brandon_ , and he rushes something out before he does. It’s unintelligible, but Brandon gets the gist of it, and he holds onto Jesperi just a little tighter, letting him ride out his orgasm in waves 

He collapses right against Brandon, his breaths caught in his throat, and his leg pressed perfectly against the front of his sweats. It’s a heavy weight and it takes all the willpower Brandon’s got not to press up into it.

“You didn’t,” Jesperi breathes out eventually, and he doesn’t finish the sentence, but Brandon gets what he means. He doesn’t roll off, just glances down at the tent in the front of Brandon’s sweats. And Brandon’s shameless enough just to smile at him. 

“I know, yeah, it’s fine I —“ He cuts himself off when he feels a firm pressure right over his hard on, and _fuck_ , it’s Jesperi’s hand. 

“I can help,” Jesperi says, and he looks _shy_ almost, or it could just be the colour to his cheeks. Pink blooming like flowers against pale skin. “If you want.” 

He climbs off, and that lets Brandon prop himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, I. I want.” 

Jesperi sucks in his bottom lip, shifting just so he’s practically square with the side of his hips, and Brandon’s on the brink of losing his mind when his hand disappears under the waistband of his sweats. 

He’s slow and tentative with pulling him out, calloused fingers curling around his dick light enough that Brandon can’t help the desperate groan that slips past his lips. He wants to fall back against the bed, but most of him wants to see this, and fuck it, he’s got a front row seat.

Jesperi jerks him off slowly until he’s got Brandon grunting out little _faster, faster, faster_ ’s and he heeds it like he’s got no other choice, working his wrist with quick flicks and his fingers go just a little tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s it,” Brandon says, and he can hear how rough his voice sounds, Jesperi’s eyes trained on him enough to make his skin burn. 

He comes like that, rucking his shirt up before he can make a mess of much more than his stomach. And Jesperi lets out a sound like he could get hard again just off of that. 

“You look good,” he says, brushing his fingers over the hand Brandon’s got holding up his shirt. He dips in to press a kiss to his lips, and the angle is weird, but Brandon finds himself chasing after it. 

“Not as good as you. And if I wasn’t covered in come, maybe,” he says, and tugs off his shirt. His head’s spinning just a little, feeling light and airy. “I could use a shower.” He falls back against the bed, basically talking to the ceiling. “Up for one?”

“I kinda need it,” Jesperi says, because — right. His boxers. Brandon can’t help but crane his neck to look him over

“It’s for the best,” he insists, tacking on a laugh. Part of him wants to invite him in with him, but there’s that corner of Brandon that thinks maybe not yet

He tries to go for it as gently as he can, asking, “Wanna share one?” 

Jesperi blows out a chuckle. “Sure,” he says, sweet and easy. Like always. Just what pulled Brandon into this in the first place. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> bruins season sweep the habs challenge ???


End file.
